


Bésame Mucho

by t-o-n-y-s-t-a-r-k (patsserie)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Peggy Carter, Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Denial of Feelings, Drama & Romance, Getting to Know Each Other, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Other, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-World War II, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Depression, Sad with a Happy Ending, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, lots of drama and misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-05 10:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14042334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patsserie/pseuds/t-o-n-y-s-t-a-r-k
Summary: "I've heard a lot about you." Tony takes another swig of his flask. This time the captain doesn't hide the discomfort in his eyes."Because of all the army propaganda.”"No, because of my father. He couldn’t shut up about you," Tony declares bitterly, watching Rogers’ firm gaze turn into something warm. Tony feels like he's going to throw up.He remembers every night his father arrived with a satisfied smile on his face, talking non-stop about Steve and how amazing he was. Of all the deeds that the man was going to do and the pride he felt for the young man. While Tony tried to get out from under the shadow ofCaptain Americato impress his father with some new invention. But ever since his father started to work onProject Rebirtharound the ‘37 he stopped paying attention to Tony altogether. Granted that Howard didn't even pay attention to him before that, but then? Howard didn't even show up to his son’s college graduationpriortoProject Rebirth.So yeah, he knows a lot about Steve Rogers and the stupidProject.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was beta-ed by [Jess](https://marvelouspotterhead.tumblr.com). If you find any mistake or mispelling it's mine, and I would really appreciate it if you pointed it out so that I can correct it. 
> 
> Chapter warnings:  
> • Character death  
> • Alcohol abuse  
> • Mild sexual content (between Tony/OC)
> 
> I hope you enjoy. <3

_"If a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live."_

 

**Martin Luther King, Jr.**

*******

  
_December 16, 1941_

The soft touch of the paper against his hands send shivers through his body. He's been staring at the letter for a while now, the Army seal glaring ominous at him, with its perfect lines and its ink of a brilliant black, filling his empty stomach with uneasiness, and an awful taste in his dry mouth.

All the lights are turned off in the house, the only source of light left is the faint yellow light of the half-consumed candle in Howard's office. Jarvis is nowhere to be seen, the man just left the letter on his father's desk. He did try to comfort Tony, but Tony brushed him off because he was far more worried for Jarvis than himself. His butler had known Howard for so long and he even considered him a friend. Jarvis probably needed to be with his wife, to seek her comfort, right now.

Tony let him go early. The man hugged him before leaving and Tony took the chance to bury himself in the comfortable arms of the old man. Jarvis was more like a father to him than Howard had ever been.

Tony knows the contents of the letter without having to read it; he knows by the way it's addressed at him, by the seal in the front of the letter, and by the face Jarvis made when he saw it between the other letters in the mail that arrived that morning. Even without reading the letter, he knows the contents like the back of his hand. Tony finds himself in a terrible dilemma, caught between grief and relief.

If you asked around, you would probably hear about what a good man Howard Stark was. He was witty, charming and devilishly handsome, known for his intelligence and creativity, and that unwavering spark of ambition in his eyes. He was the kind of guy you'd enjoy going to parties with, watching him all dressed up, talking to people, making everyone feel important whenever he looked at them. He always was wearing that confident smile when he talked about his creations, always polite and elegant. Unlike Tony, he never let anyone know about his drinking problem. He took care of his appearance, meticulously checking every aspect for it to be perfect. And he was, in the public eye at least.

But for Anthony Stark, Howard's son and heir, he was nothing but an abusive stranger.

Tony eyes the letter lying in his father’s desk, that claims that his father died in a car crash in a desolated road in the outskirts of Long Island last night. He doesn't know how to feel about it anymore. Grief because Tony did love him, even though he never knew anything about him. His father was just a distant figure in his life. Relief because he didn't need to feel like he constantly needed to impress him or to look for the attention that he would never get. His father was so full of himself that he didn't pay attention to anyone that actually mattered in his life. Sometimes Tony feels like Howard didn't even really love Tony's mother.

He leaves the letter unopened on the desk and goes to retrieve a bottle of whiskey from his father's private reserve. He fills a glass with ice and pours the crystalline liquid. The bottle makes strange noises against the crystal of his glass because of Tony’s shaking hands. He doesn't even hesitate before downing the glass’s contents in one go, burning his throat and filling his head with the familiar dizziness.

He sits down in the chair again, his whole body shaking with the start of an anxiety attack and the sudden necessity to laugh floods his senses. He cracks up, an ugly laughter erupts from his dry throat, filling the dark, cold room. Because it's ironic, isn't it? He's drinking the same substance that killed his father. Because that's how it happened. His father has -had- the terrible habit of drinking from his flask all day. Tony should have guessed it before that the alcohol was going to be the reason why his father would leave the physical realm. To drive while being drunk isn't a good choice, but Howard obviously did it anyways. That's the only explanation he can come up with. So obvious, that's how it happened, right?

Right.

Most people would be devastated to hear news like this. But Tony had already suspected something similar to this would happen eventually. Howard had never been the poster perfect father Howard had pretended to be. If Tony is being quite honest he hadn’t expected him to be after he became obsessed with the Project Rebirth a couple of years ago. If not paying attention to your son his whole life is good parenting, then sue him. Tony wouldn't buy your bullshit.

He keeps laughing at himself for the rest of the night and doesn't notice that he finishes the entire bottle in one sitting before he falls asleep on the desk.

* * *

_December 20, 1941_

The funeral takes place three days later. But as he heads to the church all dressed up in a formal black suit, his hair combed and with a dozen white roses on his hand, he feels like it was just today when he received the letter. He still has a terrible headache because he didn't stop drinking ever since and he's still drunk because he doesn't trust himself to be sober on this occasion.

He doesn't speak with anybody, just smiles softly at the guests when he enters the church, surrounded by people who came from all over the country to pay their condolences. They talked to him about what a “great man” his father was while Tony tries his best to look as if he's stricken by grief instead of annoyance over all these people.

He can't help but internally laugh at them, telling him that they're sorry about his father dying so suddenly during the snowstorm. Because that's what they wrote in the newspaper, isn’t it? Just a bunch of excuses, saying that the road was slippery and that Howard didn’t know about it until it was too late. But how do they know that Howard didn't know about that? How do they know if he didn’t find out about the weather condition or that he didn't just die in an instant?

Tony can't count how many times he's been asked what he’s going to do. He tries to escape from the place to go home. But as soon as he's about to leave, the reporter's turn to him as if he were a beacon of light in that darkness so characteristic of the cold days of December. They struggle to get to him, pushing each other aside to catch Tony’s attention with their blunt gestures and loud voices, asking the same questions he heard after the ceremony all over again: Are you going to take your father’s place in Stark Industries? Are you going to continue Howard's prototype of the flying car? What will you do now that your father is gone?

And well, if he’s being honest? He doesn't fucking know. He just lost all his blood relatives, and he's not in the mood to deal with this. Tony just wants to sleep, but mostly drink, this off because he honestly can't deal with it. He's thinking about taking the rest of December off. Because as soon as it ends, he’s going to start working as the CEO at Stark Industries and he'll have to deal with the pressure and anxiety that this work carries. He’ll have to worry about paying the bills and keeping all Stark Industries’ employees from ending up on the streets.

His mind is going several miles per hour, trying to come up with a plan to escape. There's too many people and he has to listen to the sounds of their voices, yelling questions at him, and the cameras flashing all around him, it's overwhelming. It's too much. It's just too much.

Someone tugs at his arm, and then he finds himself inside his car. He's about to thank Jarvis, expecting the man to be the one that rescued him from exploding in front of all those people. But when he turns to the side he finds a total stranger in his place.

“Who are you?” Tony asks, silently praying to God to give him a fucking break from people wanting to talk to him.

“I'm Captain Rogers,” the blonde man says, smiling politely at him, as he puts on the belt. Tony starts doing the same.

“Sorry if I startled you, I just saw that you were in a bit of trouble with the reporters and I...I guess I wanted to help,” Rogers shrugs.

“Thank you, Captain.” Tony gives him his patented fake smile. “I appreciate it.”

The other man smiles sadly. “I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Stark.”

He doesn't answer the man, realizing where the conversation is heading. He has had enough of his father taking over his life, even now that he's dead. He takes out his flask -his father's- and takes a long sip, ignoring the slightly uncomfortable frown in the Captain’s face. He stifles a laugh. The man isn't stupid, he probably already figured that Tony is drunk by now and has been the whole day. He wishes for Captain Rogers to leave it alone.

“Your father was a great man,” the Captain insists politely.

Tony turns to look at him directly in the eyes, tiredness showing in the edge of his voice: “Really?” He sneers with another fake smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Huh, I didn't notice.”

“Really,” Steve states firmly, with a spark of stubbornness in his expression. “He was a great friend of mine and-”

“Hold on, you're Steve Rogers?” Tony asks in feigned disbelief, trying to mock the blonde. “The Steve Rogers? The Captain America from the comics and movies?”

"Yes," the Captain blushes but his gaze continues as serious as ever. Tony tries not to smile in satisfaction, apparently the Captain is oblivious to sarcasm. Or perhaps he’s just polite.

"I've heard a lot about you." Tony takes another swig of his flask. This time he captain doesn't hide the discomfort in his eyes.

"Because of all the army propaganda.”

"No, because of my father. He couldn’t shut up about you," Tony declares bitterly, watching Rogers’ firm gaze turn into something warm. Tony feels like he's going to throw up.

He remembers every night his father arrived with a satisfied smile on his face, talking non-stop about Steve and how amazing he was. Of all the deeds that the man was going to do and the pride he felt for the young man. While Tony tried to get out from under the shadow of Captain America to impress his father with some new invention. But ever since his father started to work on _Project Rebirth_ around ‘37 he stopped paying attention to Tony altogether. Granted that Howard he didn't even pay attention to him before that, but then? Howard didn't even show up to his son’s college graduation _prior_ to _Project Rebirth_.

So yeah, he knows a lot about Steve Rogers and the stupid _Project_.

“You're drunk,” Steve says after a couple of minutes, stating the obvious.

“Indeed.” Tony turns to his window, watching as little snowflakes start falling from the sky.

“You shouldn't be drunk.”

“You don't tell me what to do, Captain.”

Steve doesn't speak further. Tony can feel the man's eyes on him for a long time, as if he’s trying to figure Tony out. It's hilarious honestly, not expecting Tony to show up drunk to his father's funeral. He doesn't know if he’s thankful or annoyed by the silence reigning in the car. Deep inside, Tony wants Steve to scold him or shout at him, even hit him, just shake him out of it. Out of everything that's happening to him at the moment. But Steve will not do it. He is too good and polite to do such a thing.

They drop Tony off at his mansion. Tony says goodbye and thanks him shortly. Steve nods at him. He doesn't smile at Tony, not once, a straight face is all Tony receives from him. And sadly, that's all Tony expected. The man probably hates him by now. Just like everyone else does.

Tony goes up to his excessively large mansion to spend another night in the company of a very well preserved wine and his new inventions.

* * *

  
_December 21, 1941_

The burial is more private than the funeral, just Tony, Jarvis and some close friends of the family are attending the ceremony, watching the black expensive coffin descend into the ground with no one but Howard Stark inside. He’s being buried beside Maria, so Tony takes the opportunity to give her most of the flowers he brought along. There are reporters outside the cemetery, who got the memo that he wasn't in disposition to talk but ignored it anyways and followed him all the way to the car.

He decides to hit up the bar rather than lock himself in his father's office to go through all of Howard’s old stuff. He wants to sell some of it because it takes a lot of space in the house. He'll sell only the things he finds useless, of course. But he doesn't want to think about anything right now, he needs to go out and drink his ass off, flirt with some people and laugh at his miserable life.

The bar is the definition of filthy. The thick air smells nauseous, it reeks of alcohol and cigars, mixed with an unpleasant smell of sweat. The faint jazz music in the back of the room is hideous as if the musicians themselves are too drunk to play the notes correctly. As Tony approaches the bar, he begins to wonder why people even come to a place like here to seek a good time. But then again, he's here too. So Tony has no right to judge.

He props against the bar and asks for the cheapest whiskey in store. The bartender nods at him, with a hint of recognition in his eyes, and takes a bottle from one of the shelves. Cheap means a higher percentage of alcohol. That means Tony will get drunk faster and won't even spend that much money on it. He drinks the first round in one go, and smiles to himself, embracing the comforting dizziness.

There's a newspaper on the bar beside him, he takes it and there's a photo of himself in the front page. He's surrounded by Jarvis, Obadiah Stane and other close friends of his father. He's giving his speech at the funeral, his eyes focused on the bunch of papers in front of him. If he's being honest he doesn't even remember what he said, he just hopes it was good enough not to stain his own reputation. On the far corner, standing next to Jarvis is Captain Rogers. His face is serious and, unlike in the car, his eyes lack that spark.

He frowns at the picture, suddenly angry that the black and white photo of the Captain doesn't capture the beautiful color of Rogers’s eyes. He asks for another shot and starts reading the article. It mentions all the important people who attended the ceremony and a small background on them. He finds himself looking for Captain Rogers and starts reading it intently. The piece of information about him is obviously fake, the government isn't stupid enough to reveal the making of Captain America, but he does find some accurate information that he read in Rogers’s expedients.

Tony's not only taking over Stark Industries but _Project Rebirth_ , too. Tony already knows the basics, and he got the opportunity to meet Dr. Erskine once, before he was murdered by the Hydra secret agent during the making of Captain America. So he has a vague idea of what's going on. Even though Howard talked non-stop about Steve Rogers, there's still a lot of confidential information he doesn't know about until he formally takes over the project.

He leaves the newspaper alone, and downs his abandoned shot. He doesn't really want to continue the project but he doesn't have anything else to do. He'll let Obi take over Stark Industries for a while so he’s able to focus on his unfinished projects and that damned _Project Rebirth_ , if he's in the mood.

He spots someone with the corner of his eye and turns to get a better look at the person. The man is facing Tony with his back, dressed in an Army Uniform. Tony starts thinking that it would be hilarious if the man turns out to be Captain Rogers with his polite smile and insanely gorgeous baby blue eyes that have been haunting him since the trip in his car. He shakes his head, feeling like an idiot for thinking that someone like Rogers would even set a foot in this bar.

He's drunk almost five more shots in when another person entering the bar catches his attention. A brunette makes his way to the bar and sits on the barstool next to him. He immediately knows he's from the other side of the fence -he certainly didn't learn that ‘secret code’ for nothing. Tony decides whether it's worth the shot to get laid with the man or just a waste of Tony’s precious time.

Finally he decides it's worth it, mostly driven by his libido and the alcohol pumping through his veins, fogging his barely right judgment. He makes small talk with the guy, a couple of smiles here and some dunkley polite gestures there and Tony knows he's got him.

As they exit the bar, too close to each other to be considered morally correct, Tony feels like someone is watching him, burning their eyes into his back. But when he turns, with a hint of panic on his edges, he realizes that no one is paying attention to them. He sighs in relief, and exists the bar with more confidence than he actually feels.

All his worries get thrown through the windows as he spots the car parked just outside the bar. Jarvis is patiently waiting inside; the man drove him here and decided to stay in case Tony got in trouble, because that's how much he cares about Tony. Well, that's what Tony would like to believe, but Jarvis probably knows better than to leave Tony on his own in a bar. Mostly because there's always a 98% probability that he'll start a bar fight.

Tony enters the car with the young man trailing behind him, a smug smile on his face that makes Tony's insides churn in excitement. Thankfully, Jarvis doesn't ask any questions and in his drunk stupor, Tony decides that he'll start paying him better as a ‘thank you’ for keeping his mouth shut. And for many other reasons.

The ride home passes in a whim, and only moments later after Jarvis parks the car, Tony finds himself dragging the bar guy to his room in a heated hurry. But not before he wishes Jarvis a good night.

He doesn't even bother to ask for the guy’s name. Even if he asked for his name, he's too drunk and probably won’t remember it later anyways. So he decides to make up a name. His mind wanders to a bunch of names and when one name pops up in his head: Steve. He immediately brushes it off. He won't call his one night stand after his father's living obsession.

Mark. He'll call his one night stand Mark.

He kisses Mark on the mouth with eagerness, leading him to his room and into his bed. They're just a bundle of arms, fighting to see who undresses the other faster. A dominant one, Tony thinks, pleased at his choice for the night. He breaks the sloppy kiss and pushes the brunette onto his bed and climbs on top of him. Then proceeds to take off his jacket, his shirt and tie. He can feel Mark’s hands on his hips, touching the soft skin at his sides. The coldness of Mark's hands against Tony's warm skin is like an electric shock and it just turns him on even more.

He kisses the man again, straddling the brunette’s hips with his thighs, pushing their bodies together, in a desperate search for friction. The kiss is rough and full of hunger, and it gets along pretty well with their erratic movement of their hips. He can feel the tension building in the bottom of his stomach like a force that wants to be set free. It's been a while since he last felt this and he can't believe how much he's missed it.

They finish taking each other's clothes, which end up mixed on the floor beside the bed. As he stands straight over the man, taking a moment to appreciate the guy's appearance. His chest moves up and down in sync with his heavy breath. Tony is not particularly attracted to well toned muscles but they are very welcome indeed.

As he takes in the man under him he starts feeling like something is off - as if the guy's isn't the person he should be with. Tony shrugs it off, blaming the stupid and irrational feeling of the alcohol pumping erratically in his veins. He doesn't have anyone to be with in the first place, yet this bothers him somehow. Then Mark looks at Tony directly into his eyes and he freezes.

Tony doesn't know if it's the reflection of the light in Mark's eyes, but their color seems really close to Steve's. It takes his breath away for a moment because he can't believe he's thinking about someone he has barely talked to and that probably hates him. Tony himself dislikes himself, with Mark lying under him with arousal shining brightly in his blue eyes, in a moment like this.

It's seems like Mark senses that something's wrong, but when he asks Tony if he’s okay, Tony just kisses him on the lips to shut him up. He slides one of his hands down Mark's chest until he finds what he was looking for. He slowly starts stroking Mark’s length, earning some small moans from the man under him. Tony smiles pleased with himself as he leaves small kisses along Mark’s neck and clavicle, sucking on the soft, pale skin, leaving a trace of small bruises behind.

Tony comes with Steve’s eyes on his mind. It’s the only image in his thoughts and Tony can feel the shame creeping up under his skin. The feeling is flipping his stomach upside down as if the man himself was in the room, looking at him with disgust and disapproval. It just gets worse when Mark turns to look at him with a small grin, tiredness and pleasure from his own high evident on his face. Tony closes his eyes in order to avoid Mark’s glance since he feels like staring back at him will only worsen the horrible turmoil of feelings inside him. Those emotions are the least thing he wants to neither acknowledge nor think about.

Instead of cuddling with the stranger, Tony decides to get out of bed. He enters the bathroom in search of a towel to clean the sticky mess off his body, but once inside the white and pristine room he decides to be alone with his thoughts for a few seconds.

The billionaire stares at his reflection in the mirror to examine all the hickeys that cover his neck. The small bruises seem to be too dark compared to his own skin. His cheeks are flushed pink from exhaustion and the shame of experiencing such pleasure with someone else than his one night stand on his mind. A silly laugh escapes his lips and he stares at his reflection with disbelief. How is it that he ended up in such a situation, ashamed of himself after having sex with someone? Of course nobody would believe it. They all knew him as the eccentric and egotistical playboy. How could that man be ashamed of his sexual desires? Tony looks at his reflection, conviction shining is his dark brown eyes. Tony pushes all his feelings to the back of his mind where he locks them in a box.

When he returns to the bedroom, the man is already wearing his underwear and pants. Tony approaches him with a wet washcloth in his hand and smiles at him. Tony is good at pretending that everything is fine. Yet he is more tired, fed up and confused than before he left the coldness of his house in search of a drunken night and a hook up.

He admires Mark silently as the man gets dressed completely. He resists the urge to ask him to stay, wanting nothing more than the other man’s body heat to lull him to sleep and keep Steve out of his thoughts for a little while. Still he rather not make things even more uncomfortable for both of them. His one night stand is already risking enough just by going home with Tony.

Mark leaves in a cab, stealing one last kiss from Tony before heading out in the cold dark night. Tony returns to bed with the memory of Steve’s blue eyes shamefully burning in the back of his mind.


	2. The Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, I'm sorry. It's been almost a month since I posted and I haven't updated until now. Oh well, life is certainly something, ain't it? Anyways, here's the second chapter. Beta-ed by the incredible Jess. Any mistakes left are mine (I ended up going through it all over again rip). I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Chapter warnings:  
> • Some sad memories  
> • Tony's anxiety acting up

_ December 24, 1941 _

Tony looks at his reflection in the mirror, tracing the lines on his face and around his eyes with his gaze. He looks older than he actually is and not exactly in a flattering way. He looks like he aged ten years in the past month alone and he feels even worse. He hasn't been sleeping well for a long time now, drowning himself in vodka and whisky. The two liquids are his closest friends.

“Mr. Stark, the car is ready,” Jarvis voice startles him. He turns to look at the man, who carries the same serious expression as he does, and nods.

“Thank you, Jarvis. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Tony finishes buttoning his suit and fixes his crooked tie. He remembers his mother fixing Howard’s tie every morning, a soft smile dancing on his lips. Once she finished she would lean forward and kiss her husband on the cheek, leaving a faint stain of her red lipstick behind. Tony sighs, trying to choke down the feelings in his throat. Sometimes he finds himself overwhelmed by just how much he misses his mom and how much he wishes she'd still be by his side to drown his sorrows in her soft smile.

The trip to the Gala is silent, with the exception of the music coming out from the car's radio. Tony fidgets with his jacket the whole time, listening to the soft voice of the woman singing. He doesn't catch some of the words, his mind slipping away, but he doesn't care at all. The song is soothing, and it kind of reminds him of his mom. He closes his eyes and he swears he can see her, playing this song on the piano in the living room. Her hands moving gracefully across the tiles, the notes echoing in the room. He tries to concentrate on the words of the song, so that he can memorize them and remember them later.

As soon as he arrives at the party a lot of people, mostly reporters, start gathering around the car. They wait for him to step out to catch a glimpse at him, with their cameras and microphones ready. Once Tony slips out of the car, he finds himself trapped in a sea of flashing cameras and a torrent of questions. He doesn’t even have an answer to most of them yet, so he just smiles with feigned glee at the reporters, trying to convey the fact that he's mostly a nervous wreck at the moment. He needs to look okay in the pictures for the newspaper after all, so he pushes his feelings aside.

Tony leans towards the front window of the car and wishes Jarvis a Merry Christmas before dismissing him for the day. The man smiles at him and thanks Tony before leaving with the car, probably heading home to spend the rest of Christmas Eve with his lovely wife.

Tony moves down the red carpet with the most confident walk he can manage for the evening - and probably the whole night. He's joined by Obadiah, who looks great in his black suit, drenched in confidence from head to toe. They walk together to the entrance, the man chatting non-stop with most of the reporters and answering questions with that professional smile of his, while Tony just smiles and flirts with some random woman who looks clearly interested in him. Tony swallows, hiding his uneasiness, asking himself how Obi manages to answer the reporters without any sign of hesitation and without spilling secrets about certain topics. It is almost like the man had perfectly memorized all his answers beforehand.

As soon as Tony enters the hall, he notices that the place  _ looks _ and  _ feels _ crowded, even though there are roughly one hundred and fifty people in a place where six hundred souls could easily gather. The place is full of men dressed in tailored tuxedos and women in visibly expensive dresses that shine against the white marble floor. They are all smiling, holding a champagne flute in their hands, chatting vividly and laughing over one topic or another. that remains unaware of.

For some strange reason, he feels out of place. He's always been smooth in this kind of gatherings and didn’t allow his anxiety to get the best of him. Then again he hadn’t been alone most of the time. Usually Tony followed his father around like an obedient puppy on a leash while he tried not to mess his reputation even more up than he already had done. Tony never knew the real person his father had been. But he does remember how Howard used to carry himself with such confidence around these kind of people.

Tony starts wishing Rhodey was there with him. He hasn’t seen his friend since Howard's funeral. Even back then, they hadn’t been able to spend time together or even talk that much. Rhodey had to go back to his division the next day. The world is at war, after all, and he was urgently needed. Tony is still surprised that Rhodey had even managed to get some time away from the front line when it felt like the world is starting its apocalypse, any given minute.

Tony wanders around the hall, greeting some other partygoers. Several partners of the company, as well as the members of the board, greet him and offer their condolences before moving their talks to the future of the company. Many express their delight at knowing that they will work along with Tony in the near future, while others keep their opinion to themselves. He’s been at it for almost two hours before he's called in. It's time for Tony to hold his speech. He has practiced it, learned it by heart. He doesn't want to mess it up, after all.

Tony walks up to the row of stairs in the middle of the hall and climbs them until he's high enough above everyone. He takes a sip out of his champagne flute, the third he's drank tonight, and clears his throat to ask for everyone’s attention. The guests turn to look at him with a sudden but vivid interest, turning their heads towards him with soft or smug smiles on their faces.

“Ladies and gentleman, first of all, I want to thank everyone for your presence on a Christmas night as beautiful as this one-” he starts slowly, giving his most truthful smile “-As you may know, my father, Howard Stark, passed away in a car accident a few days ago, leaving the leadership of Stark Industries to me and my father's closest friend, Obadiah Stane.”

Some guests smile at him, boosting his confidence, before he watches it crash down caught up in flames with a knot in his throat. Most of the people in front of him turn to their companions in what they believe is a disimulated manner, disbelief showing on their faces. Some even laugh at the bare concept of Tony running a company, and others look worried at him with a flash of pity across their faces. Not  _ for him _ , but at the fact that  _ he's _ in charge now. And due to his reputation, this was something Tony expected. But he wasn't actually ready to watch the outburst of his bad decisions blowing so blatantly in his face.

“I know its sudden. And it probably sounds incompetent. But I assure you I'll try my best to live up to my father’s vision and will; to honor his memory and his work.” Tony says this mostly out of spite. Trying to convince himself that the dizziness in his head is because of too much champagne and not because of the waves of anxiety radiating off him. He feels nauseous.

“The company will continue its course, supporting and supplying our honorable army amidst the war against the Nazis. Other important changes will be done in the future, to ensure our triumph and the safety of our soldiers.” He rushes his speech, shortening it as much as he can driven by the sudden and strong need to leave, or to hide among the guests.

“For now, let's enjoy this party and celebrate Christmas together. Still, let us always keep the memory of the soldiers, fighting for our beautiful country, in our hearts. Thank you.”

The crowd applauds him, some just out of politeness, others to show their full trust and support, and others do not even clap. He flashes them a strained smile, raising his hand to give a toast, “For the future.”

Everyone rises their own drinks, fake smiles plastered on their faces. Tony's hands are shaking, holding his champagne flute in his right hand and hiding his left hand in his pocket. He's surprised that he didn't drop the champagne during the speech, out of anger or any other feeling. He downs it in one go, at the same time as everyone in the hall, before he goes down the stairs with all the grace he can muster - he is so nervous that his sight has become a little blurred and if he is not careful he will fall down the stairs - and puts his glass on a tray held by one of the waiters, to whom he smiles flirtatiously, making him blush faintly and earning a surprised smile from Tony.

“You did good, Tony. That was one great speech.” He spots Obi walking over to him, leaving the group, with all the board members gathered, standing close to them with their faces flushed because of the champagne. Obi puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles warmly at him, “Why don't you ease up a bit and talk with some people?”

Tony grimaces at the idea of talking to anybody after his disastrous speech. Although Obi complimented his performance, he knows that the man is just trying to cover the fact that it hadn’t been as well received as he initially thought.“I feel like they aren't really happy to see me, though.” He says under his breath and clears his throat. “Well, not after...that.” He voices his concerns only for Obadiah to hear.

“You're a charming young man. They'll love you.” The other man insists, clapping his back in reassurance.“Go and have a little fun, Tony. Meanwhile I'll go and talk with some colleagues.”

Tony glares at him, but sighs in defeat. He would prefer to stay by Obi’s side - at least-, but he knows that he’ll be occupied with important matters with the board even if they are at the gala. “Thank you, Obi. I'll try.”

After that, he’s dragged around the whole night, jumping from one group of people to another. It surprises Tony that people actually come forward to talk to him, even if they're mostly talk about the same topics. His - disastrous - speech, Howard’s sudden death - he keeps receiving condolences and resists the urge to flight the scene every time someone starts talking about  _ what a great man Howard was _ -, the future of Stark Industries - a subject he tries to avoid as much as he can, the speech was enough to put him on edge. Even some others topics that thankfully have nothing to do with him - personally -, like some news they’ve heard from the front line as well as Captain America’s tour around the States.

The last one turns out to be a delightful source of amusement for Tony. He even finds himself intrigued about the tour and tries not to laugh when he pictures Steve in the colorful uniform -the one which the Army makes him wear during those shows- dancing along to the  _ Star-spangled Man _ .

“He’s so handsome!” One of the women in the group says, smiling widely. Tony sips his champagne and raises his eyebrows. “I heard that he’s in New York. He’s gonna give a show in a couple of days.”

“Actually,” another woman chimes in, looking directly at Tony, “wasn’t Captain America at your father’s funeral, Mr. Stark?”

Tony gapes at her, caught off guard, but closes his mouth immediately. He clears his throat, uncomfortable with the question. Yes, he was. Tony saw him, but didn’t talk to him until he decided to bail the scene and ended up trapped with him in a very uncomfortable car ride while very much drunk.

She seem to notice his discomfort and visibly panics, “Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry, that was unsensible, I-

“It’s okay, darling.” He interrupts her, while giving her a comforting smile. The woman blushes and bites her lower lip, clearly stressed. He decides to brush it off. “Yes, he was there. He knew my father and came to give his condolences.”

“I see…”

“So, Anthony,” - a man starts, breaking the uncomfortable silence that settled amongst the group - “how is everything going in Stark Industries?” he asks, his eyes shining with something Tony can’t quite decipher. Tony has seen him before, but he can't remember from where. He's neither good at remembering names or faces nor matching them together even when it's really necessary.

Tony sighs in relief before answering,“It's been okay.” He doesn’t really want to talk about anything that has to do with his job. He prefers to neglect the subject as much as he can, just like his new role as CEO of Stark Industries. Hearing about it? Yes. But participating in the conversation? No, thank you. That speech was enough for the night.

“I heard you were developing another  _ weapon _ to beat the Nazis?” The man insists, carefree of his words. Their fellow party-goers turn to Tony, with questions in the tip of their tongues.

“I’d rather not talk about confidential projects,” Tony cuts in before anyone has the chance to ask. How does this man even know anything about their projects?

“You don't know anything about it, do you?” The man inquires, his voice dripping with mockery. Everyone in the group turns slightly away, obviously uncomfortable in the situation. Tony can't look away from the man though. His hold on his champagne tightens involuntarily and he sees a smirk surface in the man's face at his reaction. “I'm really surprised Howard inherited the company to someone...like you.”

Tony raises  his eyebrows at the man and puts his drink aside, placing it carefully on one of the closest crystal tables. Mostly because he's afraid he might drop it. Or throw it at a certain someone. Now he misses talking about Steve in spangles.

“Well, I’m sorry. But that decision wasn't mine to take,” Tony laughs bitterly. He's well aware that the man is trying to provoke him, and Tony and alcohol plus talking about Howard as well as Stark Industries is a recipe for disaster.

“I understand your distrust about my new position. It is pretty obvious that I'm  _ not  _ qualified to maintain my family's business,” he continues, his voice dripping with sarcasm and something close to rage. He has heard that so many times from his father that it stings to say it aloud himself. He feels like he's agreeing with Howard and that's something he has tried to avoid at all costs his whole life.

“It isn't like I graduated from MIT with honors when I was 17 years old, and hold various doctorates in various topics-” Tony pulls  _ that  _ card, surprised that his voice hasn't cracked yet “-but I'm sure Howard was competent enough to know who could take proper care of his precious company, am I right?”

No, Howard wasn't. Tony's sure about that. And so is the man staring at him with an ugly smirk in his face. But Tony won't let him drag his name through the mud so easily. Even if it means that he has to play his cards to earn himself some points before he loses the game.

“You're reckless, arrogant and incompetent,” the man spits at him. A lot of people left the group, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, and Tony is thankful that he, the man and his apparent below average date are the only ones left because if the man keeps going this probably will turn nasty. Something unpleasant starts squirming in the bottom of Tony’s stomach, making him sick.

"Well, as they say: like father, like son," Tony replies, keeping his trembling hands in his pockets to hide them from plain sight. The man squints at him, something like anger slips in his face, putting Tony on guard.

The man laughs without humor, shaking his head tiredly, “A poor excuse for a poor quality man.”

Tony huffs an ugly laugh and takes his forgotten champagne flute. “Well, if you excuse me, I got more important matters to attend. Good night.”

“Running won't always be the solution, Stark.”

Tony tenses up, but doesn't turn to look back at the man.

_ You're a coward. _

He needs to find Obadiah.

_ You're a coward. A disgrace for this family. _

He tries to ignore the echo of his father's voice in the back of his head. There  _ are _ more important matters to attend and he can't get distracted.

The mention of the new weapon rubbed him the wrong way. He thinks it'd be better to ask Obadiah what's going on and why that man knows  _ anything _ about it. He doesn't really know what's happening in Stark Industries lately, but he could use some input on the projects that are being developed. He's going to make sure to stop by his office later. He's got nothing to do anyways, and staying up late tearing apart his father's projects to find information sounds like a better plan than staying at this Christmas party.

He finds the Obadiah talking with other three men. The man smiles at him with a somewhat warm expression on his face and Tony wonders if he did something to earn half the affection the man usually shows towards him.

“Tony, I'm glad you're still here!” Obadiah slurs his words slowly. He's drunk then. Huh.

“Where else would I be?” Tony shoots back jokingly, grinning at his father's drunk best friend. He’s glad that Obi is enjoying himself - he deserves it after all these terrifying days. Tony knows that he must be really busy with work, trying to keep the press at bay.

He turns to the other three gentlemen and stretches out his hand to greet them, “Tony Stark, a pleasure to meet you.”

They shake his hand one by one, introducing themselves. Tony doesn't really pay attention to their names, which he'll probably regret later, his mind more concerned with the previous mentioned weapon.

“Are you enjoying the party, Mr. Stark?” The tallest one asks with a smug smile, before taking a drag from his cigar.

“It's quite entertaining. I find the music rather pleasing,” he lies. The music isn't bad, though he rather be at home making a better use of his time. Instead he's stuck here, because people would probably talk about how irresponsible it’d be for him to miss his own gala. Unfortunately his appearance and presence is worth more than his mental health these days.

The man looks sharply at him, squinting his small dark eyes at Tony, “I bet you have found yourself a dance partner already.”

“Not really, no.” Is this man trying to dismiss him? “I've been dragged from one group of people to another the whole night. Haven't had the time to dance with anyone.”

“I have a few suggestions on dance partners, if you are interested?”

He definitely is trying to dismiss him. “No, thank you. Maybe later,” he says pointedly.

“Stark, your speech was great. Your father would be so proud of you,” The short man turns to Tony, trying to ease the tension amongst the men. “Hopefully the media gives you a break. A lot has happened to you this month, you look like you need one for once.”

“In the society we live in, I'm afraid that won't be a possibility. The media loves to follow me around everywhere, even more than usually now that my father isn't here anymore.”  _ -to hide my mistakes.  _ Tony is used to Howard covering his public trepidations, but now there's no one to stop him from tearing his small world down.

“Well, nothing a little money can't fix,” the third one chimes in with skeptical amusement. He adjusts his glasses before taking a sip from his drink, his hazel eyes fixed on Tony. “You got to be careful, Stark. The world is a messed up place. More now that we are at war.”

“Gentlemen, stop scaring the young man!” Obi puts an arm around Tony's shoulders, shaking him with emotion.

“And let's not get ahead of ourselves, Professor,” he raises his brows at the man with the glasses. “Perhaps the attention will serve us well, especially to ease the tension build up by the war. We'll let them talk for a while, so that they can keep themselves entertained while we focus on our projects.”

“Are we, now?” Tony whispers under his breath, his lips pressed in a thin line. Tony loves the attention, really, but not at this particular moment. Not when there's a high possibility that he'll mess everything up by saying something or doing something that will very much affect the company’s reputation. “Funny that you would mention our projects, there's something I need to ask you about, Obi.” He turns to the men, “Gentlemen, if you excuse us.”

Tony doesn't even wait for their response before he drags Obi across the hall to a far, empty corner. Trying his best to pass by unseen, but giving up on his behavior when Obadiah starts greeting people along the way. For the first time ever, being around all this people is making Tony extremely anxious. And with all the questions aimed directly at him, he finds himself overwhelmed. Too many people want to know his plans, unaware that he doesn't have any.

“Tony, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah just-” Tony holds his breath. He doesn't know what's happening to him lately. It seems as if suddenly his body and mind have stopped working together and it's causing him serious problems. If he continues like this, how can he keep up with his facade?

“I want- I need to know why a man threatened me with the knowledge of a project we are supposedly developing,” Tony shoots, rushing over his words. He looks at Obadiah expectantly. “He seemed to know something I  _ should _ know about.”

Obi’s eyes darken, the concern slipping away from his face, all of the sudden. He takes the flute of champagne Tony is holding away from him, and put it on the tray of a passing waiter. Tony didn't even notice when he took another flute. “Tony, you should go home and rest. You know these people, they just want to test you.”

“I know, Obi, but if there's something-”

“Tony. Enough.” Obadiah cuts in. “Leave everything to me, okay? I'll take care of it.  _ You _ need to rest, and to stop drinking, so that you can start working properly next week.”

A strange feeling settles in the bottom of his stomach. Tony closes his eyes and counts to ten in his mind. He feels like Obi is hiding something from him, but is obvious that the man won't talk and Tony refuses to make a scene so he gives in this time. If Obadiah is indeed hiding something from him, arguing in the middle of the gala won't solve anything in the long run. As much as he wants to, he refrains from acting up and glares at him in return before walking outside of the building.

He lets the wind wash over him for a couple of seconds, enough time to calm his nerves. He feels Obadiah looking at him from the door as he calls a cab and heads home without bidding farewell.

He gives the taxi driver his direction before he rests his face against the cold window of the car. He watches silently as they make their way through Manhattan, the street lamps lightning up the empty and dark streets. His breath is fogging up the window, and he draws a smiley face on the cold, damp crystal before the memories of the gala blow his mind. He closes his eyes and his breath slowly turns even and deep.

He'll deal with this later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I want to thank [Jess](https://marvelouspotterhead.tumblr.com) for being with me during the creation of this story, for editing my never ending spelling mistakes, for believing in this story and for giving life to this with her wonderful ideas. Thank you, I _really_ appreciate it.
> 
> I also want to thank my friends Lea & and Lynn, for reading the rough draft and giving me ideas to continue when I was stuck. And I want to thank myself, for not giving up on the idea and going through with it even when I felt like my brain was dead and my hands were hurting. And for giving myself the oportunity to change my own perspective in my writing.
> 
> And thank _you_ , for taking the time to read the first chapter of this story. I hope you liked it and that I can count with your support. We have a long way to go. This is just starting. ;)
> 
> If you have any ideas, suggestions, or you just really liked this story, you're very much welcome to leave kudos and a comment below. If you wanna say hi and be my friend you're welcome on my blog [@iron-capsicle](https://iron-capsicle.tumblr.com).


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